The crack of the collision echoed across the field before the whistle even blew. My best friend Ian crumpled to the turf, clutching his side, gasping for air. The crowd, the players, the refs, everything froze for a moment as he lay there. I sprinted to his side, my own heart pounding as he struggled to speak. His breaths were shallow, panicked, and uneven.
"Stay down," I told him, though it felt meaningless in the face of his obvious pain.
After the game had finished, my mother found out what the diagnosis was; it had been a collapsed lung. He was going to be fine. However, it could have been a broken rib, a spinal injury, or even permanent damage. I couldn’t stop thinking about how something as simple as a rib guard might have prevented it. And I remember what he used to say sometimes: “I don’t need them.”
A hit like that was brutal, but it wasn’t uncommon in lacrosse. The truth is, none of us thought much about rib pads. They weren’t required, and most of us shrugged them off as unnecessary or uncomfortable. They were bulky, restrictive, and, frankly, uncool. Wearing them made you look like a beginner or someone afraid to take a hit. At least, that’s what we told ourselves. It was easy to think that way until that day.
But as I started to see then, there’s a culture in sports, especially lacrosse, that equates toughness with playing without extra padding. It’s a badge of honor to feel the bruises the next day, to wear the pain like a trophy. This attitude isn’t unique to lacrosse. Across sports, there’s a strange, stubborn resistance to protective gear, even when it’s proven to prevent injuries. Will it ever change? When will we put our safety first?
Across a range of sports, protective gear has sparked debate, not just among athletes but also within governing bodies, fans, and even medical communities. In hockey, for instance, the debate over mandatory face shields raged for years. By the 1980s, junior leagues required full-face cages, but professionals resisted, citing limited visibility and discomfort. Even after a ton of facial injuries, broken jaws, shattered teeth, and career-threatening eye damage, many NHL players refused to wear them. It wasn’t until 2013 that the league-mandated visors for new players, but veteran players could still opt out, and most still do.
Football tells a similar story, though the stakes are arguably higher. Helmets, once flimsy leather caps, evolved into high-tech shields against brain injuries. Yet concussions remain uncontrolled, and studies suggest helmets are only part of the solution. The bigger issue? Players often resist changes to tackle technique or new padding systems, fearing they’ll lose their edge. A 2021 study showed that even with improved equipment, more than 40 percent of college players admitted to hiding concussion symptoms to stay on the field.
Rugby players, known for their rugged image, often shun scrum caps and mouthguards, even though studies have proven their effectiveness. The culture values endurance and raw toughness, a mindset that leads to higher concussion rates compared to other contact sports. And the worst of it all, in combat sports like boxing or mixed martial arts, the resistance to heavier gloves or additional headgear is tied to preserving the "purity" of the sport, despite the obvious risk of traumatic brain injuries.
This isn’t just a professional problem. At youth and collegiate levels, the same attitudes trickle down. Coaches push athletes to “toughen up,” and players worry that wearing extra padding will make them stand out, not as strong but as weak. It’s a toxic culture that prioritizes pride over protection, creating a dangerous environment where safety is seen as secondary to performance. And it wasn’t until the accident that I, personally, decided to create some change for myself.
In lacrosse, rib guards are a textbook example of this tension between safety and tradition. Unlike helmets or shoulder pads, rib pads are not mandatory at any competitive level, leaving the decision entirely up to the player or, in some cases, their coach. The reasoning behind this decision isn’t fully clear. Some argue that requiring rib guards would add another layer of cost for players in a sport already seen as expensive and equipment-heavy. Others suggest that rib injuries aren’t as common as concussions or knee injuries, and therefore don’t require a mandate. But that doesn’t mean rib injuries are rare or insignificant.
A sharp blow to the ribs can result in fractures, internal bruising, or, as in my friend’s case, a collapsed lung. Despite this, rib guards are often seen as optional, their absence justified by the same cultural narratives found in other sports. The lack of mandates also raises questions about liability and regulation. If a school or league doesn’t require rib guards and a player sustains a serious injury, who is responsible? This is particularly relevant in lawsuits over sports injuries, especially those involving head trauma or other serious injuries. The debate over whether rib guards should be mandatory mirrors larger questions in sports about where to draw the line between personal choice and institutional responsibility.
Overall, The experience of seeing my best friend injured on the field was a turning point for me, not just as an athlete but as someone who cared deeply about the sport and the people who play it. In the days and weeks that followed his injury, I couldn’t stop thinking about how preventable it all was. Rib guards aren’t a revolutionary invention, they’ve existed for years, providing simple yet effective protection. So I started wearing them.
The thing was, I already had them. I play box lacrosse, which takes place within a rink and mandates rib pads. But others didn’t, so they continued to take the risk. It must have been somewhere at the back of their minds. But it was in the front of mine. When my friend got back onto the field, he wasn’t the same player. You could tell how scared he was and how much confidence he had lost when dodging toward the goal.
Once I got to college, I continued to wear them. And others continued not to. Occasionally, I’d tell the story of what happened to my friend, but I know it’s not going to convince anyone. It’s sad to think that they might have to witness a serious injury themselves before they understand the risks. As I reflect on my journey and prepare for future challenges, I’m reminded of my friend’s resilience and the second chance he got to play the game he loved. I don’t want other players to have to learn these lessons the hard way.
In lacrosse, as in so many other sports, the choice to waive protective gear is often rooted in misplaced priorities: appearance over practicality, tradition over safety, and ego over well-being. But what’s the cost of these choices? A preventable injury can sideline a player for weeks, months, or even permanently. Worse, it can take away their confidence, their passion, and in extreme cases, their mobility or their life. When we ignore safety measures, we aren’t just risking bruises or minor setbacks, we’re risking futures.
The change has to come from the top. Individual players will never be able to create it. Coaches, players, and even parents need to understand the risks of playing without proper protection. Leagues and governing bodies need to take a stand, introducing policies that require essential gear like rib guards. This isn’t an impossible goal. We’ve seen similar cultural shifts in other sports.
Helmets were once optional in hockey; now, they’re non-negotiable at every level. Rugby has made strides in promoting mouthguards, and even the NFL has introduced stricter helmet protocols in response to rising concerns over concussions. Still, policies are only one part of the solution. We need to shift the narrative around protective gear. Instead of seeing it as a sign of weakness, we need to reframe it as a mark of commitment. Athletes who wear rib guards aren’t just protecting themselves, they’re setting an example for younger players, showing that it’s possible to play hard and smart at the same time.
There’s a culmination of many factors that lead to such changes, however. Some of it is the timing and the right person in leadership. But some of it has to do with technology. I believe protective gear is at an all-time high right now, and theoretically, as materials and technology advance it can only get better.
Lacrosse is a beautiful, dynamic sport, but its intensity shouldn’t come at the cost of its players’ safety. By advocating for protective gear and looking past outdated norms, we can create a culture where athletes are empowered to take risks on the field, not with their health, but with their skill, creativity, and passion. Mandating protective gear like rib guards isn’t about coddling athletes or making the game “soft.” It’s about recognizing that strength isn’t just about enduring pain, it’s about making smart choices that ensure you can keep playing the sport you love for years to come.
